The Kirin'Var
by Mostlee
Summary: This is a brief first chapter in the exploits and adventures of two characters in the Outland of Azeroth. As my first entry on this site, I chose Warcraft as my starting point. The game already feeds the imagination so richly, I couldn't help but continue


The Kirin'Var sure are a restless and menacing lot, Meggernie thinks to herself as she pulls her robes of amethyst velvet tighter and braces herself against the wind. A chill runs the length of her slender body as she contemplates the mournful undead that inhabit this zone. Netherstorm, though not as scarred and broken as Honor Hold, was rough and wretched. Once beautiful and serene with monolithic halls and chapels it now stood empty save for the ghosts of residents past. Her crystal green eyes scan the buildings, all tattered and weathered, long forgotten and left forlorn by time and war.

Her gaze rests on a solitary being, her trusted companion, Nayl, who lay a few yards away, dead as a door nail. He merited the class of High Warrior through his valor and bravery until the wicked Duke Menarcus came to power. All who achieved fame and glory were put to the test by his royal pain-in the ass-ness. The Alliance had appointed the Duke, with the hope that his reign would banish the Scourge forever. Little did they know how dark he truly is, spreading his powers and chaos over Outland.

Though trained in the art of healing and resurrection, Meggernie sighed at her lack of strength to help him. Looking down, at her meager water supply, she makes a silent note to get more water at the next town. Her supply was getting low and she needed more.

She listens as Nayl's body shifts under the weight of his heavy plate armor, the steel cold and cruel against his torn skin. He was a funny fellow, short of stature, most night sabers stood taller, and his beard reached down to the ground. She had been sorely tempted to cut it off. Just then as the thought hits her, she looks at his eyes, the color of molten lava as they seem to widen looking at her straight on.

"Don't even think about it." She could almost hear his voice in her mind.

"There, there Nayl, don't you worry, your rancid, ratted clump of facial hair is safe for now. I haven't the strength to cut it off, let alone heal you right now. Hold on for just a few more seconds while I gather my wits about me."

Meggernie turns her back against the whipping wind and swallows deeply the last of her water ration. Mana, as her trainer used to say, either ya got it or ya don't. Those who possessed a generous amount of it faired well in the magical classes. Those who didn't were destined to fight with sheer brawn and wits. Fortunately, by drinking holy water, a caster of magic could bolster their powers and invigorate their level of natural mana. Meggernie could feel her soul vibrating with the power of the light filling her being.

The air around her calms and a faint golden glow surrounds her as she closes her eyes and drinks in the warmth. Opening her eyes, she stands gingerly, smoothing her hands down her robes. Meggernie pushes her helmet back up over her brow, sending tendrils of silky auburn hair down to frame the sides of her pale face. The nasty thing was always slipping and causing her to stumble for not seeing in the rough, topsy-turvy terrain.

Meggernie takes a few steps before leaning down and placing a porcelain white hand on Nayl's brow. She closes her eyes and whispers in the wind.

"Holy Lords of The Light, bring life to this body."

Meggernie focuses all of her energy on Nayl as the wind whips around her, snapping with electricity. She tremors as she feels the warm golden glow seep into Nayl's dead, bloody body. He quivers slightly for a second as life rushes into him, sending his blood coursing through his veins, air into his lungs. He moans as the warmth fills him, his wounds sealing and turning from bright blood red to a soothing pink. She reaches down with her other hand and pulls him upright to sit beside her.

"Better?" she asks Nayl, his eyes rolling around almost as if loose in their sockets.

"Yah, better now that you finally decided to bring me back to the living, woman." He mutters something about mana-soakers and stands unsteadily to his full 3'5" stature.

Meggernie rises and looks down at him smiling brightly.

"You see, mana is a good thing."

"A good thing would be to find that shroud, and get it back to Duke Menarcus." Nayl grimaces, his small body solid like a canon, easily carrying the weight of his load. "I'm not too keen on spending eternity in that monster's dungeon."

As if on cue a raven, black as night, swoops down low, cawing loudly and spiraling back up into the air, this, the vile bird sent by the Duke to keep them in line. The bird was constantly watching them, tracking them with its keen sight. It was never far away.

"Sometimes, I swear that Duke Menarcus is seeing through the eyes of that bird." She shivers but not against the cold this time, her green eyes flashing with disgust.

Nayl chuckles as he scans the area as if looking for a fight. "You think everything is watching you. Are all priests as paranoid as you are?"

"Hummmpffff" Meggernie slides her skin of water back under her robes. "Best you be watching both of our backs in this…"

"FOR THE WIN!!!!!"

"Oh Lords of Light, what now?!"

Meggernie whips around to find Nayl brandishing his sword in the face of yet another tenant of this desolate place. These people, if you could call them that seemed almost see through, their clothing faded and tattered as it hung from gaunt limbs. Their expressions as silent as tombstones, they seem so serene until he comes within five feet of them. Upon his approach they morph into wispy creatures that resemble more bed curtain than corporeal being. At his attack, they proceed to scratch, claw and pummel him with fire and black shadow magic.

Since taking the path of the Holy Lords of Light, she was restricted in the casting of her spells. The healing path had helped her powers grow, however her damage casting had fallen by the wayside. It took all of her strength to keep them alive.

Meggernie pulls one hand out her palm turns toward the dark sky, and casts a beam of healing warmth at Nayl before turning her palm inward and pointing long, thin fingers to blast the creature with smite leaving it burning with the wrath of the Lords of Light. Her other hand reaches for the gem encrusted dagger strapped to her side.

"I do wish you would rest in between killing, my good man. It's beastly difficult to keep you alive when all you do is fight."

"I'll be damned woman! This malignant burst of hot air was going to attack you!" he yelled back as the thrust of his sword finally found its mark.

They both watch as the wisp turns to dust and slides silently to the ground. All that is left is a ball of molten fiber with tiny flumes of smoke that rise wistfully above.

"Well, that was quick." Meggernie smiles as she absent-mindedly pushes her helmet back up on her head, and tucks the dagger close in her belt. "Whose turn is it to roll the creepy thing for loot?"

Nayl snickers as he pushes his sword back into his scabbard, the hilt making a clinking sound.

"Why don't you go ahead, I'm sure that shroud isn't lying crumpled up underneath it."

"Wouldn't it be funny if it was, though?" a grin spreads across her face, eyes sparkling, as she kneels down to roll the ghastly thing over.

"Oh, water!" Meggernie eagerly pulls the flask of water up and dusts it off with the edge of her robe before popping it open and filling her skin.

"See that chapel up there, on the hill, Miss Megg?"

Meggernie raises her gaze to fix on a small cathedral flanking a sharp hill, the eaves dripping from the roof like ice cycles, the interior as vacant and dark as the eyes of the undead.

"Yes."

"I'm thinking that shroud is in there. I'm also thinking we may die trying to get it. Are you ready?"

He pulls his sword closer to his round body and looks up at her with steely black eyes. She could see the bravery in his expression, mixed with worry.

"Yes, my little friend," She tosses the bottle to the ground and slips her skin back under her robes, giving it a gentle pat.

"There's another life for you there, my friend." She winks as they walk slowly up the hill, facing the wind with the hope of finding the Shroud of Gold and honor for her beloved friend, Nayl.


End file.
